The River Journal August 2015

Because there’s more to life than bad news

A Newsmagazine Worth Wading Through

Good Dog Kissing Chickens

Re-Inventing the

High School at

Clark Fork August 2015 • FREE

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August 2015

THE RIVER JOURNAL • August 2015 •

A News Magazine Worth Wading Through ~just going with the flow~ P.O. Box 151•Clark Fork, ID 83811 www.RiverJournal.com•208.255.6957 RiverJournalIdaho@gmail.com

STAFF Calm Center of Tranquility Trish Gannon • trishgannon@gmail.com

Ministry of Truth & Propaganda Jody Forest • dgree666@gmail.com

Sales & Other Stuff

David Broughton• 208.290.6577 • davidcbroughton@gmail.com

“We are what we repeatedly do.

Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” Aristotle Proudly printed at Griffin Publishing in Spokane, Wash.

509.534.3625 Contents of the River Journal are copyright 2015. Reproduction of any material, including original artwork and advertising, is prohibited. The River Journal is published the first week of each month and is distributed in over 16 communities in Sanders County, Montana, and Bonner, Boundary and Kootenai counties in Idaho.

The River Journal is printed on 40 percent recycled paper with soy-based ink. We appreciate your efforts to recycle.

Ferry is showing how to educate kids well even with a shorter week.

THE WAY I SEE IT

On the Cover: Laddie in his natural

element. Photo by Sandy Compton.

6. CLARK FORK STEAMS AHEAD. Staffing cuts at the school amped up the innovation level. by Trish Gannon

8. WHAT’S ALL THIS ABOUT KISSING CHICKENS? A CDC report has poultry lovers alarmed but when it comes to salmonella, everyone should be taking care.

10. THREE TO KEEP. A trio of local books will keep you entertained for the remainder of summer.

11. GOOD DOG. It took some time, but Laddie has become the perfect hiking partner. THE SCENIC ROUTE 12. MY LIFE AS A LAB RAT. Living with Parkinson’s Disease is tough enough, but the reality is there’s still much to learn. ALL SHOOK UP 13. A HISTORY OF LACK OF SUPPORT FOR VETERANS. It takes more than a magnetic yellow ribbon to truly support our troops in the way they need. VETERANS’ NEWS 14. BONNERS FERRY MASTERS THE 4-DAY SCHOOL WEEK. It started as a way to save money, but Bonners

15. THOSE MYSTERIOUS MIMA MOUNDS. Head west into Washington State for a look at a still unexplained geographical feature.

SURREALIST RESEARCH BUREAU 16. SUPER SUMMER OFFERS A SECOND SEEDING. Yes, it’s hot. That’s good news for this year’s harvest. GET GROWING 17. PACIFIC WREN. This tiny beauty is like a secretive forest gnome. A BIRD IN HAND 18. IN DAYS GONE BY. Progress has brought us numerous benefits, but what have we lost? KATHY’S FAITH WALK 19. I DON’T NEED TO KNOW RIGHT NOW. It’s easy to get caught up in life, but sometimes you just need to live it. THE HAWK’S NEST 20. CHICKEN DELIGHTS. Scott tells a realistic tale of chicken adventures that none-the-less is a work of fiction despite any resemblance to living chickens or magazine editors.

ACRES N’ PAINS

Our Thanks to these fine businesses where you can pick up a copy of the River Journal: Coeur d’Alene North Idaho College Athol Athol Conoco Westmond Westmond Store Sagle Sagle Conoco Sandpoint Waterfront Conoco The Panida Theater Vanderford’s Books Eichardt’s DiLuna’s Cafe

Monarch Mountain Coffee Columbia Bank Dairy Depot Burger Express Sandpoint City Hall Sandpoint Super Drug Gas n’ Go Ponderay The Hoot Owl Cafe Babe’s One Stop Co-Op Country Store The Bonner Mall Schweitzer Conoco Hope Holiday Shores

Clark Fork Hay’s Chevron Monarch Market Clark Fork Beverage Samuels Samuels Service Station Elmira Elmira Store

Bonners Visitor Center Noxon Big Sky Pantry Aitken’s Quik Stop Noxon Mercantile Trout Creek Trout Creek Local Store

Naples Naples Gen. Store

Thompson Falls Town Pump Harvest Foods

Bonners Ferry Super One Foods Safeway Bonner Books

Plains Conoco The Printery Clark Fork Valley Hospital

August 2015

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Clark Fork Steams Ahead Despite funding cuts, rural high school is implementing big plans

by Trish Gannon The news coming from the School Board’s budget hearings this spring was hard to take in Clark Fork. With not enough money to cover everything in the budget, the district plan to make up the shortfall was mostly going to be borne on Clark Fork High School’s back, in the form of cuts to an already small staff.

Although that sounds harsh, the reality of school budgets is that they’re driven by enrollment—and enrollment at Clark Fork Jr./Sr. High has been dropping for years.

Competition from online offerings, home schooling, and other area schools have made an impact, as has an aging population. Census data for Clark Fork, Hope and East Hope show that population grew from 809 in 2000 to 832 in 2010, yet the number of children ages 5 to 17 went from 125

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to 108. And while the school has had some limited success drawing students from the Northside area to attend school in Clark Fork, few people who live elsewhere in the county choose to send their children to school on the east end, even though they are freely able to do so.

School district Superintendent Shawn Woodruff said that for many years, Clark Fork has been “held harmless” from the impact of its dwindling enrollment (although it did lose its hot lunch program last year), but that increasing budget pressures gave the district no choice but to make cuts in the number of teachers at the school, particularly when Sandpoint school classes are often overcrowded, whereas Clark Fork classes have sometimes held as little as three students.

“It was hard news to swallow,” acknowledge Clark Fork’s principal, Phil Kemink, “but we knew it was coming. So our staff did what it always does: we innovated.”

If you’ve somehow managed to miss the news, Clark Fork just happens to be one of the finest schools in our area. For six years in a row it has been named as one of the top small schools in the nation by U.S. News and World Report, and while other schools struggle to keep kids enrolled through graduation, Clark Fork’s graduation rates are routinely close to 100 percent. “I think we had one student in the last ten years who didn’t graduate,” Kemink said.

In addition, education doesn’t stop at high school for the kids who have graduated from its doors, with most going on to attend college or trade schools, and an enviable number— particularly girls—who follow their love of the outdoors into science fields that have former students studying ecologies all over the U.S. and beyond.

A staff used to that kind of success remains undaunted by the charge to continue to provide students with a world-class education, and to do it with fewer teachers.

The plan, Kemink explained, has to do with tracks. “But I don’t really want to use the word ‘tracks’ because it has a negative connotation in education, and it doesn’t really explain what we’re doing,” he said. It might also be called STEAM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics - plus an A for the arts), but Kemink says that doesn’t quite fit either.

In a nutshell, the school has dropped its block schedule, and figured out a way to ensure all core educational instruction (the reading, writing, and ‘rithmetic part) will be met, while also allowing for “extra” instruction, as students participate in programs designed around their self-chosen “track” (or house, or voyage, or whatever name is eventually decided on) for the semester. The three options from which students can choose for their non-core instruction are fine arts, technology, and the great outdoors (also known as environmental science).

August 2015

On that environmental science path, the school is partnering with Schweitzer Mountain Resort, Kaniksu Land Trust and SOLE (Selkirk Outdoor Leadership & Education), to offer programs and education regarding water quality issues, backcountry skills, water first aid, mapping marshes and avalanche education (although funding is still needed for some of these programs).

Go in the technology direction and the school will continue to grow its involvement in the building of electric vehicles and aquatic robots, including participation in major competitions.

And in the area of fine arts, woodworking skills—something important to community members—will be part of the program. (Some shop-type programs focused on woodworking and welding will also be available through the technology component.)

“This is a great opportunity for us to reach out to our community and draw them into the education of their children,” Kemink said, and it’s not too late for anyone interested in sharing their skills with students to get in touch with the school and become part of the program. While outside experts are essential to these offerings, each element will be overseen by certified teachers, and tied into the core curriculum. “There’s no time wasted on anything frivolous,” said Kemink, and added that the focus is not only on providing a quality education, but on “keeping kids excited about education.”

The staff is excited as well. “None of the staff wants to be confined to any one thing,” said Kemink. “They all want to be involved with all of it.

Our staff here is really proactive and positive.”

“It’s a great school,” added Booster Club president Darlene Stevens. She’s a second-generation graduate of the school herself, and the graduation of her oldest child this year makes them a three-generation school family.

“The staff here has learned to reach

Would Your Student Benefit From a Small School Education?

every student,” she said. “No one gets lost in a small school, and that’s good for the kids. I am so thankful my children went to school here,” she added.

Although the picture being painted is one of the school continuing to do what it has done so well, the reality is that staff at the school are willing to walk their talk about providing an excellent education to students. They have spent a lot of time investigating available opportunities, reaching out to the community, and developing plans to do more with less. They are also willing to step outside what has traditionally been seen as a teacher’s role. Mike Turnlund, for example (yes, the same Mike Turnlund you’ll find on page 13 writing about birds), will be teaching a class that covers Spanish I, Spanish II and supervision and support of students taking a variety online classes (although he has done this previously, as well). Give him some firewood to chop and he could be a teacher in 1815, not 2015. Other teachers are doing the same. Even the office staff (that is, the principal, secretary Barb Holub, and Gear-Up Coordinator Dawn Schatz) have added to their job descriptions, taking charge of the distribution of the cold lunches that the district ships out to the school every week. School staff also covers lunch time gym duty.

Clark Fork, it seems, is not moving into the new school year attempting to recover from budget cuts, but is instead steaming full speed into the future with heart and soul intact. “It’s all about flaming that spark of learning,” said Kemink, and that spark is carried by both students and staff.

If you live anywhere in the Lake Pend Oreille School District, you can choose to send your 7th through 12th grade student to Clark Fork Jr/Sr High School. Transportation from Sandpoint is provided by the school district, though the bus ride is a long one. (The bus leaves LPO at 5:55 am, Kootenai Elementary at 6:05 am, and Northside at 7:15 am.)

Why might you want to do so?

Here’s just a few reasons: •

• •

•

• • •

•

Quality education. Clark Fork Jr Sr High School boasts a close to 100 percent graduation rate, and most students go on to attend college or trade schools after graduation.

Listed as one of the top small schools in the nation 7 years in a row.

Named an Idaho 5-star school (one of only 12 middle school/ high school combos so rated in the state).

Has always met Adequate Yearly Progress goals since the implementation of No Child Left Behind in 2001.

Small class sizes where students get the individual attention they need.

FREE dual-credit college classes.

(Tuition is subsidized by the state.)

A no-cut sports program.

All interested students can participate in the athletic programs at the school (football, volleyball, boys and girls basketball, golf, track and tennis).

If you would like to learn more about enrolling your student at Clark Fork, or take a tour of the school, call principal Phil Kemink at (what number) or email him at phil.kemink@lposd.org

August 2015

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What’s All This About Kissing Chickens?

In July, media throughout the U.S. were falling all over themselves to report that the CDC wants people to stop kissing their chickens. Yep, they were crying foul (sorry, couldn’t resist) on all those mad hipsters with backyard flocks who (holy crap!) were snuggling up to their new, feathered friends. As a rather mad chicken owner myself, it didn’t take long for friends to begin sharing articles about the risk to my Facebook feed, which, upon reading, made me wonder how I missed the whole kissing chickens trend, and whether it’s really as risky as all that to plant a big smooch on a friendly fowl.

The headlines suggested it was so: Forbidden Love... Hey, Hipsters, Quit Kissing Your Chickens!... Besotted Chicken Owners Warned Not to Get Too Cozy...

Cuddling With Chickens Not Advised...

The Chicken Kissing Disease... Stop Kissing Your Chickens, You’re Causing Salmonella. But to find out the real scoop, I went straight to the source: the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Ground zero for the flurry of chicken kissing warnings (you can read it online at http://1.usa. gov/1h3cK5N) was this release: “Four Multistate Outbreaks of Human Salmonella Infections Linked to Live Poultry in Backyard Flocks.” The CDCs headlines are not nearly as interesting as you’ll find in the non-academic media, but I eagerly scanned the report for the facts about this newest of kissing diseases.

What did I learn? An investigation of four outbreaks of Salmonella...

181 people infected, 33 who were sick enough to be hospitalized... the outbreaks were linked to live poultry...

95 of those ill were interviewed... 86 percent reported contact with live poultry in the week before they got sick... WHERE’S THE KISSING?!

I read through again and found this paragraph: “Many ill people in these outbreaks reported bringing the live poultry into their homes, and others reported kissing or cuddling with the live poultry.”

That’s the source of all those Page

headlines. Out of 95 sick people, “many” reported bringing the birds into their homes and “others” reported they had “kiss(ed) or cuddl(ed)” the birds.

I feel like I should turn in my writing credentials, because there’s no way I could have pulled the headline “Forbidden Love” out of that information.

The real story here is a lot less sensational, and therefore a little (or a

lot) more boring.

Let’s start with Salmonella. This is a bacteria that lives in the gastrointestinal tract of chickens and a whole lot of other animals. For a start, you can include dogs, cats, cows, pigs, turtles, horses, hedgehogs, hamsters, squirrels, raccoons and white-tailed deer.

Honestly, you can include a lot more, because I haven’t been able to find one example of an animal that can’t harbor salmonella. And that includes people.

There are over 2,400 strains of

Salmonella, including one that causes typhoid, but the strain we’re talking about here is Salmonella enterica and if it makes you sick, you’re considered to have salmonellosis.

Salmonellosis symptoms include nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and fever.

Like most infections, it is generally more serious for infants, the elderly, and those whose immune systems are somehow compromised.

Approximately 40,000 cases of salmonellosis are diagnosed every year, and it is believed there are 30 times more actual cases that are never diagnosed because they are so mild.

Around 600 people die each year from salmonellosis. The CDC gives several other additional estimates: its Salmonella statistics page states 1.2 million cases per year, with 450 deaths, while the Salmonella homepage states 1 million cases and 380 deaths annually. So the incidence is somewhere in that ballpark.

Because it lives in the gastrointestinal tract, Salmonella bacteria can be shed in feces, and can spread via anything that becomes contaminated by that feces. In the particular case of kissing chickens, here’s the path: A chicken has salmonellosis (with or without symptoms). That chicken poops. A lot. Wherever it goes. And that poop includes particles of Salmonella. In the process of its never-ending quest for food, the chicken pecks its own poop, transferring the Salmonella bacteria to its beak. You kiss your chicken’s beak.

BOOM! You now have Salmonella bacteria in a place where it can easily pass into your own gastrointestinal system and make you sick.

How much bacteria it takes to make you sick depends on the strain and on your own immune system.

So the path this bacteria follows is from a gut to poop to another gut... and you are far more likely to become a point on that path in numerous other ways than kissing chickens, though that is also one potential route.

Salmonellosis is the most common

August 2015

cause of foodborne illness in the United States, and you can get it not just from animals, but from dairy, meat, eggs.. and raw fruit and vegetables which, when you think about it, are grown using animal poop. Just this week, in fact, Kroger’s grocery store has recalled four of its store brand spices—coarse ground black pepper, cinnamon, garlic powder, and Bac’n Buds—due to possible Salmonella contamination.

Yes, even spices can be the source of a Salmonella infection.

In fact, a 2011 report from the National Institutes of Health (Animal Contact as a Source of Human NonTyphoidal Salmonellosis) mentions that dry pet food can also be contaminated, and while you might not make a habit of eating cat or dog kibbles, your animals can become infected this way and pass that infection on to you. (Online here: http://1.usa.gov/ 1OzhydD) Forget kissing chickens—maybe we should all just quit eating! And Salmonella is far from the only bacteria to be contaminating your food; there’s e-coli, listeria, norovirus, campylobactor and clostridium perfringens, just to name the most common. And recently, it was discovered that Klebsiella, one of the most common (and serious) infections found in hospitals, may originate in food: a study at the Translational Genomics Research Institute found Klebsiella bacteria in 47 percent of the meat it sampled from The vision of panelized, realized.

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The true headline here isn’t about kissing chickens, it’s about something we’ve all learned pretty much by the time we’re three years old: DON’T EAT POOP. Or maybe it’s something else we learned as children: WASH YOUR HANDS. But who is going to read those stories?

Life is a risky business, and ultimately, one of those risks is going to end life for each and every one of us. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t exercise some common sense along the way, if you can figure out what that common sense might look like. (Hint: that common sense might include the two headlines I listed above.)

For the record, let me say I’ve never actually kissed any of my chickens, but I certainly handle them and I would suspect my two granddaughters have managed to get in a smooch or two before the chicken they were holding was able to get away. If I happen to leave my back door open, my chickens often wander into the house uninvited.

And shamefully, I also do not practice good hygiene when it comes to my animals: often, I fail to wash my hands after handling my chickens, particularly if the handling has been brief, or if I have handled them outside and have not immediately returned to the house.

Clearly, my chickens are a risk to me.

So is my new kitten, who chews on my hands at least a couple hours every day (In fact she’s doing so now as I type this one-handed), and also spends some time hanging out in a poopy litter box.

So are my daughter’s menagerie of cats, dogs, pig and chickens (the pig eats everything, including poop). I play the same Russian roulette whenever I buy fresh fruits or veggies at the store (no, I don’t always wash those, either) and also, particularly, when I purchase and

bring home meat, both from handling it and from eating it. I am also at risk of contracting Salmonella from the dry pet foods I feed to my animals.

I can get sick from eating raw cookie dough (yum!) or mayonnaise, or lettuce from the grocery store, or food from just about any chain restaurant known to man. If I am a typical American, the CDC assures me, at least two times every year I will experience nausea, vomiting and diarrhea from the food I eat that is contaminated with some type of bacteria. (Obviously, I am not a typical American, as I have only experienced those symptoms once in the last few years and I am 99.9 percent positive that it was due to the excessive amount of beer I drank.)

Let’s not even talk about what we can catch from kissing another human.

We humans like to think we’re at the top of, not just the food chain, but of all life on the planet, but the reality is we are far outnumbered and outwitted by organisms we cannot even see. Your very own body, the thing around which is built your concept of you, actually contains ten times more bacteria cells than it does human cells. And the microbial world is one we have only begun to explore: understanding it is likely far off in the future.

It’s a dangerous world out there that I live in, and I don’t mean to make light of the dangers, especially when so many of them can be lessened by the application of a little soap and water.

At the same time, life is also very beautiful, and that beauty can come in many forms. Sometimes, that form has feathers and wattles and a comb, and it jumps up on my kitchen counter when my back is turned.

Now I’m going to go wash my hands. And the counter.

-Trish Gannon

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August 2015

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Three to Keep A Trio of Local Books to Keep You Engrossed for the Rest of Summer

WAR BONDS: Love Stories of the Greatest Generation. by Cindy Hval 216 p. Casemate. $15.97 Hardback Cindy Hval, Spokane columnist for the Spokesman-Review and back-up “captain” for the Huckleberries Online blog, has released her first book, “War Bonds: Love Stories of the Greatest Generation.”

World War II shaped a generation in numerous ways, but perhaps none so poignant as are revealed in this series of 36 stories of how love can be birthed and endure for a lifetime in the midst of a world-wide cataclysm.

World War II shaped a generation in numerous ways, but perhaps none so poignant as are revealed in this series of 36 stories of how love can be birthed and endure for a lifetime in the midst of a world-wide cataclysm.

World War II shaped a generation in numerous ways, but perhaps none so poignant as are revealed in this series of 36 stories of how love can be birthed and endure for a lifetime in the midst of a world-wide cataclysm.

World War II shaped a generation in numerous ways, but perhaps none so poignant as are revealed in this series

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of 36 stories of how love can be birthed and endure for a lifetime in the midst of a world-wide cataclysm.

THE SCENIC ROUTE: Life on the road between Hope and Paradise. by Sandy Compton 268 p. Blue Creek Press. $14.00 Paperback River Journal columnist Sandy Compton has spent 20 years (more or less) writing a regular column on his life “between Hope and Paradise.” The Scenic Route is a collection of 76 of those essays, and speak mostly on what it’s like to grow up wild—and stay that way—in some of the most beautiful country on the planet.

In one of his previous 8 books, Compton wrote, “Life is served raw in wild country,” and that rawness is evident in stories such as “The Old Man” and “Caught Out.” But there’s more than rawness to be found between Hope and Paradise, and all those hidden treasures are revealed as Compton shares his decades-long journey through life and through the wild places of the Pacific Northwest... and sometimes even further.

In these 76 essays Compton covers a lot of travel, a bit about the Nez Perce, family, friendship, gifts, time, and more

FREE LUNCH

for Lake Pend Oreille School District students will be provided through August 21. The lunches are available from 11:30 to 12:30 at Farmin Elementary and Sandpoint City Beach; from 11:30 to 12 at Kootenai Elementary; from 12 to 12:30 at Sandpoint High School, and from 12:30 to 1 at the Clark Fork Library.

than a few hikes into the wild places around us. This is where his gift most greatly shines, as trees and rocks and water becomes characters themselves.

“If you’re going to live here, you gotta live here,” is the one piece of advice Sandy says he got from his father... and live here, he does. And regardless of where you lay your head down at night, as you read these pages you will live here, too—just between Hope and Paradise, WILD PLACE: A History of Priest Lake, Idaho. by Kris Runberg Smith with Tom Weitz 227 p. washington State Univ.

Press. $24.95 Paperback Few places in the lower 48 can still be called wild, but among those few is Priest Lake, the gem of North Idaho.

In this new book written by history professor Kris Runberg Smith and geologist Tom Weitz, and in conjunction with the Priest Lake Museum, the story of the permanent settlement of this area, much of which is still accessible only by foot, is revealed, highlighted by hundreds of old photographs and maps.

While the known history of Priest Lake might not be extensive in years, it is certainly so in scope, and the book covers mining, homesteading, forests, and tourism and the impact each had on development in the area.

Learn about the Klockmann Mine, Gifford Pinchot’s experimental forest, the 1926 fire season, how fishing camps became first class resorts, Nell Shipman’s films and more.

You can find all three of these books online at Amazon or in your local bookstore, or purchase directly from the publisher.

August 2015

• The Scenic Route

Good Dog!

There’s a snowshoe hare living somewhere around my yard. I see her (him?) almost every day. Medium brown. Medium sized. Medium-length ears. Extra fast. Most often, I see it when I come home from somewhere, sitting sentinel in the yard. As soon as I drive in, it blitzes off into the brush.

GC—my dog—has either not noticed it yet, has bunny blindness, or (this is really a funny thought) has finally learned not to chase things.

Yeah, right.

Just the other day, as GC and I plodded into the last couple of miles of an 11-mile adventure, he suddenly took a hard left and went blasting up the hill after something, I’m not sure what. The next thing out of my mouth was “NOOOOO!” The fact that he had that much energy left was astounding, and miraculously, he stopped. And looked over his left shoulder at me with that, “C’mon, boss. Let’s have some fun!” look. Then, at my insistence, he returned reluctantly to the trail and we plodded on. It might have been a squirrel, which he can never catch anyway, but I could smell elk.

And so could he, I’m sure.

GC stands for Golden Canine, which is my dog’s Facebook name. Sure, go ahead and “friend” him. He doesn’t get online often, so be patient if he doesn’t accept your request right away.

GC’s real dog name is Laddie, and Laddie has become, over the past few years, a great dog. This can be translated to mean, in human language, “friendly, happy, ready to rock—and somewhat obedient and loyal.” In actuality, GC has always been a great dog, even before achieving human dog standard near compliance.

I say “near,” because GC is possessed of a mind of his own—and a nose that never quits.

Right now, he’s outside my window, nose in the air, sniffing away. Dogs have good noses, but his seems to be a super-nose. It gets him in trouble from time to time. His sense of smell is much keener than his sense of hearing, or so he says—by his actions. Even though

Sandy Compton •

he does know what “NOOOO!” means, GC sometimes still forgets what “Here, Laddie,” means.

If I were to give GC a new dog name—which I won’t—it would be “Ranger.” On trail, he ranges ahead, out front and often out of sight.

But, every few minutes, I look up and he’s sitting in the trail waiting. When he sees that I’m still coming along in my slow two-legged way, he goes on ahead.

When we hike off trail together, and he doesn’t have his pack on, he ranges out to one side or the other, again often out of sight, but it seems just out of sight. If I give out with our secret whistle, he nearly immediately shows himself, as if to say, “No worries, boss. Here I am.” Then, it’s back to whatever semi-parallel line he might be following.

I used to worry about that, but over the past couple of years, he has proven himself very trustworthy when it comes to keeping up with where I am, even though I can’t keep up with him.

The advantages of four-foot drive are tremendous.

He’s also got a tremendous nose for trails. Even when they sometimes disappear to my human senses, he finds and follows them. We were up high in a ten-year-old burn on our 11-mile adventure, and a decade of sunlight where once there was shade has caused the beargrass and low-bush

whortleberry to obscure much of the trail tread. Follow the wagging tail was all I had to do to stay on track.

Later, we whacked our way out to a view of the place I wanted to get to from the top of a cliff that kept us from getting there. En route, he once again showed his good sense by staying on top of the ridge while I tried to shorten up the route by traversing side hills. You’d think I would know better after the however many decades of hiking the Cabinets of which I am guilty. My dog does.

On our way back to the trail, I let him lead.

GC is—or has become—a dandy.

Our relationship hasn’t always been so great. The teenage dog years were a trial for both of us. He’s just beginning to understand the concept of personal space. Just beginning to learn that not everybody loves dogs. He hardly whines at all any more in the back seat.

He comes—most of the time—when I call him. He seems to have accepted the fact that I, too, have a mind of my own.

And that “NOOOO!” means “No.” And, maybe, he’s learned to leave the bunnies alone.

Good dog!

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August 2015

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My Life as a Lab Rat

Imagine there is a disease that can destroy the ability to control one’s own body and it gets worse over time. Now imagine there is no known cause and no known cure. That’s a fairly good description of Parkinson’s Disease. By the way, the number of people with Parkinson’s is expected to double in the next fifteen years.

That’s why research is so important.

And like the serendipitous discovery of penicillin, no one knows where the answers will come from. That’s why so many PwPs (People with Parkinson) choose to become lab rats—to participate in research and clinical trials.

Some research is observational. For example, I spent many hours at WSU in a memory and aging study that involved paper/pencil tests and even the use of a smart home rigged with cameras and microphones. The goal is to help our aging population to remain as self-sufficient as long as possible.

Other studies are designed to gather vast amounts of data to be made available to other researchers.

I wear a Pebble smart watch that gathers information on tremors and physical activity fifty times a second.

All together, there are about 1,000 people in this study. For those who take medications, the watch alerts wearers when to take meds as well as tracking the effects.

Genetic testing is also vital. There appears (remember, no one really knows) to be a genetic link—at least for some people or groups. I’m especially interested in this aspect because my dad had Parkinson’s. Whenever I

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A.C. Woolnough •

see my sons and grandsons, I am determined to help find a cure as soon as possible! The University of Washington is doing a genetic study looking for an elusive biomarker that may be the smoking gun to predict PD. Drug trials are both expensive and time consuming. I just started a three-year long Phase III trial of a hypertension drug that may (emphasize may) slow the progression of the disease. In clinical trials, Phase I involves a few individuals to determine safety of the intervention; Phase II involves up to several dozen; Phase three may involve thousands; and Phase IV continues to monitor benefits and side effects after the drug is made available to doctors and pharmacies.

My trial is “double-blind” because neither the researcher nor I know if I am getting the drug or a placebo that was randomly assigned.

So, if you don’t have PD, what does this mean to you? What can you do?

For starters, you can make a donation to the Parkinson’s Disease Foundation (pdf.org). Better yet, you can have some fun while helping fund PD research; on Labor Day, September 5, The Shake, Rattle and Roll Golf Tournament—using only three clubs—will take place at the Sandpoint Elk’s golf course. Non-golfers are welcome, and there are prizes for both low scores and high scores! For more information or to sign up, stop by the Elk’s club house or send me an email at acwooly(at)gmail.com. The entry fee is only $35 and includes lunch.

A.C. Woolnough has spent a lifetime in education, including a stint as principal at Sandpoint High School. After an adventure as a school administer [or, simply: “principal”] in Alaska, he has returned to Sandpoint and is currently serving the Parkinson’s Disease Foundation as both a Research Associate and a member of the People with Parkinson’s Advisory Council. In addition, he is the Assistant State Director for the Parkinson’s Action Network.

August 2015

• Veterans’ News

out lies told by GOP Administration officials was immaterial. The simple fact that Iraq had absolutely nothing to do with the attack on 9/11 was I like to consider myself an amateur MacArthur, to clear all government immaterial. historian. I’ve extensively read the property of these protesters and their Congress grew the VA’s budget in works of Tuchman, McCullough, Foote, camp. MacArthur ordered units of the baby steps. Once the GOP took control Catton and Haley. I’ve noted a common infantry and cavalry, supported by six of the House of Representatives their thread throughout history. Our tanks, to clear the veterans’ campsite. stinginess knew no bounds. Backlogs national leaders have always found ways The veterans and their families were were being reduced at a rate that to pay for a war but have proven very driven out and the campsite burned would never ease the pain. And now parsimonious when it comes to paying to the ground. It should be noted that we have the spectacle of the Secretary for the aftermath of those wars.

Hoover was a Republican. of Veterans Affairs, Bob McDonald, In the very beginning, our leaders When FDR took office in 1933, going to Congress with hat in hand were reluctant to pony up the monies another encampment of veterans and requesting more money to solve some needed to pay the pensions promised their families formed in our nation’s of the problems. The response by the for those who won the Revolution. This capital. Instead of siccing the Army same Senators and Representatives penchant for failing to meet obligations on these veterans, this Democratic who created this situation is that it can be found after every conflict and administration created the CCC, hiring was the VA’s inefficiencies and abuses cannot be laid at the feet of any one many of these men to plant trees and that were the real problem. The shear political party. Although, I must say build roads through our national parks. hypocrisy and hubris of these people is that recently the GOP seems to be the And those certificates that had been astounding. stingiest. given to WWI vets were paid off by In a short sixteen months we’ll After World War I, Congress was an Act of Congress nine years early. have a chance to correct this situation. reluctant to pay the ‘bonuses’ promised It was one of the many ways FDR’s The entire House of Representatives to our Doughboys who went to France administration worked to put people to and a third of the Senate are up for in 1916. The ‘Bonus Army,’ made up work before the advent of WWII election. Vote for any candidate who of approximately 43,00 veterans, their Fast forward to the wind down of understands and respects the sacrifices families and supporters, most of whom Afghanistan and Iraq. The VA is being that the less than 1 percent of our had been out of work since the Crash overwhelmed with demands by veterans nation’s population has made. It is way of 1929, set up camp in Washington for services and benefits promised to past time for veterans to vote in their D.C. in 1932, demanding payment on all who have served this country. These own best interest and get their due. the certificates that had been given demands, building up over a decade them for their service. Granted, these of war, created a huge backlog. These New Topic: Monday, July 20, certificates were due to mature in backlogs were further exacerbated by the President signed the ‘Veterans 1945, but they were issued during a a Congress that didn’t want to pay the Identification Card of 2015.’ This bill time of relative prosperity before the tab for a war that had been heartily authorized the VA to issue a nationDepression hit. endorsed by both sides of the aisle. The wide recognized ID that serves as The President, Hoover, ordered the fact that this endorsement was based on proof that the bearer is a veteran.

Army Chief of Staff, General Douglas half-truths, exaggerations and out and This bill is supposed to protect us from identity theft. I agree with Tom Berg of Houston, Texas when he said, “The author (U.S. Rep. Vern Buchanan, R –FL) of the bill accurately described it, “It’s the least we can do for the brave men Affordable & Accessible Health Care and women in uniform who put it all on Primary health care for both adults & children, preventative health the line for us.” It is “the least.” There is so care and education, STD screening, women’s health, sports physicals, much more needing to be done. Now these congressmen will flaunt what they have done vaccinations, X-Rays, Stress-reduction classes, prescription assistance, Medicaid for us when they actually did nothing for us. pediatric and adult dental emergencies. Sliding scale for those with no insurance.

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August 2015

Page 13

• The Way I See It

David Keyes •

Bonners Ferry Masters Four-Day School Week

My apologies.

I interrupt this beautiful summer to begin a discussion about education.

But before you get your waffle cones and sunscreen all up in a bunch, why not set a spell under your beach umbrella, sip a cold one and contemplate the benefits of a four-day school week versus the traditional fiveday one?

When I discussed Boundary County’s shift to a four-day school week with now-retired Supt. Dick Conley last spring, I was braced to hear that test scores were dipping, kids were quitting and that crime was rampant on the streets on Fridays when there isn’t school.

I was wrong.

Boundary County’s shift to a fourday school week in 2007-08 was borne of financial necessity to be sure. Even today “we would be broke in half a year if we went back to the five-day schedule,” Conley said.

While there are some savings— busses are off the roads 20 percent of the week, heat is turned down on Fridays, etc.—it is not even close to what the board of trustees hoped.

A study was released last month that examined 42 of the state’s 115 school districts that made the switch and it came to the same conclusion.

Some savings and no clear data on if the change shorted the students’ education.

Conley said test scores rose immediately after the switch and absenteeism plummeted, but those standardized test scores are now even with peer schools and absenteeism has also leveled out.

“Unfortunately,” he added.

Fifty-three Idaho schools in 14 school districts offered four-day school weeks this past year. When Bonners Ferry jumped in, there were only 19 other schools doing it.

While the trend to four days is clear in Idaho, only 1 percent of school districts nationwide have adopted the four-day model and that number hasn’t shifted for a few years. My guess is that is will trend up as more Page 14

technology enters education and students can read from their iPads just as easily at home as at school.

While Clark Fork struggles to keep its junior/senior high open, one has to believe leaders have investigated the four-day week. In fact, they have visited Bonners Ferry and Conley has met with them. Troy, Mont., educators have also reached out.

State law says that districts with five-day school weeks must have sevenhour school days for 165 days. Schools with four-days weeks must have eighthour days for 142 days—a 23-day reduction.

In Bonners Ferry, students cram seven classes a day between 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. There is a senior government class that starts at 7 a.m. and if a student in that class is in an extracurricular activity, sometimes he or she won’t get home until 8 p.m.

Here is what Bonners Ferry does right and it is a model any district contemplating the move to four days should follow, The secret is they invited to town to participate and to put out a red carpet to 4-H. While it can be argued that teachers and students can function on four days of education a week, Fridays are a potential time bomb. Most parents work five days a week and the idea of leaving small children—or bigger children, for that matter—home alone is laced with problems.

Every Friday, the local 4-H organization and volunteers open up the junior high for a day of games, computer time, crafts and homework help for students in all grades.

“They wanted to make sure we didn’t have an influx of latchkey kids,” Conley said. “By all measures, it has been a huge success.” The district pays for the utilities but 4-H picks up the tab for everything else.

It is not uncommon to see students in downtown Bonners Ferry on Friday with their parents, he said. Friday has become a family day for many.

“This community has embraced the change and it is now a part of our lives,” he said. “Even if we could swing

it financially to go back to five days a week, I think the whole county would be in an uproar if we did.”

“It won’t work for everyone, everywhere,” he said.

“The savings don’t quite add up and it is hard on the younger students at first, but in balance, Bonners Ferry has made a success of it because it still values our school, teachers and students.”

What do you think?

David Keyes is the former publisher of the Bonner County Daily Bee, Bonners Ferry Herald and Priest River Times and is the vice chairman of the Idaho Lottery. He can be reached at: davidkeyes09@gmail.com.

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August 2015

• Surrealist Research Bureau

Jody Forest •

Those Mysterious Mima Mounds

More years ago than I care to remember I was traveling on the Pacific Coast Amtrak to visit a girlfriend who was living near Koos Bay, Oregon when I spied out the large observation deck windows a peculiar sight. Spread out over a vast plain were countless numbers of small, 2- 3-foot high hillocks, like flattened igloos stretching out as far as the eye could see. As most of my long-suffering readers know by

the objects have never been seen under construction. A second theory posits them as a byproduct of certain rare kinds of earthquakes. My own favorite, if unlikely, explanation deals with intergalactic visitors leaving messages in a sort of dotted binary code.

Though extensively researched and documented, these theories would seem to fall apart due to the fact that Mima Mounds are located

Mima Mounds.

Photo by Morgan Davis /Flicker/ Used under Creative Common License CC BY 2.0

now I’m a sucker for the weird and unusual, but this was something I’d never come across before.

A few questions to the conductor brought forth the information that they were called Mima Mounds and he pointed out to me a score of other such “pimpled plains” as we made our way down the majestic Washington/ Oregon Coast. Though found around the world, they are most commonly concentrated along the Pacific Northwest, but their origin remains unknown.

Early settlers to the region believed they were somehow related to Indian tribes, yet many digs by archeologists around and in the mounds themselves failed to turn up any evidence of Amerind involvement. Three major theories were put forth this year alone to account for them: the first had computer models showing that prairie dogs and gophers would build such mound metropoli over a 300-400 year time span, thus explaining why

in both earthquake-free zones and in locales where there’s no prairie dogs or gophers to be found. So, the jury’s still out on their origin. You can easily pass a whimsical hour googling various hypotheses about them.

I can still recall the faint thrill I felt on first spying them in the distance so long ago. Most have disappeared over the years, lost to encroaching urban development or plowed under for farming. Luckily, many states, including Washington and Oregon, have set up a few refuges and sanctuaries to preserve them. The phenomena can be seen or studied fairly locally at the Mima Mounds National Area Preserve near Capitol State Forest in Thurston, Washington. ‘til next time, As the vermouth lipped duck of doubt slowly roasts in my oven of truth, Adieu! Keep spreading the word, Soylent Green is People! All Homage to Xena.

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Bonner Mall Farmer’s Market Saturday, August 8 9 am to 3 pm

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Page 15

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Nancy Hastings •

Super Summer Offers Second Seeding

Who says there are no second chances? This summer’s exceptionally warm temperatures have left holes in Oil Changes many gardens way earlier than usual.

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The choices for a second harvest of veggies are actually quite vast for veggie lovers to try. Spinach, kale, carrots, beets, broccoli, lettuce, arugula, mustards, kohlrabi, radishes, Asian greens and bush peas are all some yummy options for your fall garden.

Our average first frost falls between September 10 and 20, so that give you Virus & a good 40 days to seed the veggies Computer Tune-Up and many of them, after being up and rooted, will take a mild frost. $49.99 Look on the back of your seed packet and look for varieties that mature in approximately 55 days or less.

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high spun fabric allows sunshine to pass through on your plants throughout the day and can be kept on throughout the growing season to trap your heat in.

Tunnel covers are quick and easy, inexpensive greenhouse plastic to place over your crops from mid-September on to continue your growing season.

These are essential for a long beet or carrot crop. The tunnel covers have the hoops already sewn in which allow for folding up and storage at the end of the season. Niki Jabbour of Nova Scotia has written The Year-Round Vegetable Gardener, a wonderful resource to further your attempts at expanding your growing season with minimal expense of greenhouses or elaborate cold frames.

If you have plans for an all-yearround cold frame or small greenhouse, you will need to incorporate some lumber to accommodate for our snow load. Check out Eliot Coleman’s invaluable notes on living and growing year-round in his unheated movable greenhouse in Maine with his books, The Winter Harvest Handbook or Four Season Harvest.

It might seem a little early to be planning for the frost or snow cover, but if you like to eat your own fresh vegetables year-round, the time to dig in again is here!

Nancy Hastings grew up on a 300+-acre farm and now is co-owner of All Seasons Garden and Floral in Sandpoint. She and her husband John have been cultivating community gardens and growing for 16 years in North Idaho. You can reach them with garden questions or sign up for classes at allseasonsgardenandfloral (at)gmail.com.

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August 2015

• A Bird in Hand

Michael Turnlund •

Pacific Wren:

Secretive Forest Gnome Hikes through the deep forest, or for that matter a trip to the local disc golf course, will bring you to the doorstep of one of my favorite birds: the Pacific Wren. If you’re not familiar with this little fella, now is the time to get yourself formally introduced.

It is not often that you can come into contact—beak to beak—with a real forest gnome!

Wrens are little, among the smallest of birds in the forest, but the size of their voice might make you think otherwise. They are tremendous singers: loud, bold, and melodic. In fact, that will probably be the best indicator that you’re in wren country: their song. Of course, it is impossible to describe it in writing, but there are some good online resources with audio files of bird songs, such as the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s All About Birds.

This is a good place to start in your quest to add the Pacific Wren to your life list of bird species.

The genus name for wrens is Troglodytes, which is Greek for “cave dweller.” This refers to the habit of most wren species of skulking about in thick brush or rock crevices. And this is where you’ll find the Pacific Wren: it prefers well-shadowed forested areas with heavy underbrush.

The different species of wren on our continent are all very similar in build and coloration. They tend to all favor various shades of brown for color and are stockily built. They have narrow sharp bills and dark eyes. Perhaps their most distinctive feature is their habit of holding their tail in an upright position, practically perpendicular with the plane of their body.

The Pacific Wren is brown too, but varies from light to dark; its coloration broken up with flecks of white and black. Also note the light-colored “eye brow.” The neck and upper chest might be a bit more buff in coloration and the tail—if you’re close enough to notice—will have a distinct checkered or striped pattern, depending on

available light. My experience is that this little bird tends to appear darker than it really is, probably because you almost only ever encounter it the shadows. It is also very small; think sub-sparrow in size. It will probably be the smallest bird you encounter in the deep woods, save for the Golden-crown or Ruby-crowned kinglets.

Until recently the Pacific Wren was grouped with the Winter Wren, with whom they are very similar. But research revealed that the two wrens do not interbreed, so the Pacific Wren was separated out as a separate species in 2010. This is fine for us, as the Winter Wren is an eastern species, so we probably don’t have to worry about confusing the two species in the field.

Here our wren in a resident bird, meaning it spends its time in our area year-round. Being of wee size and lacking mass, winter cold can be demanding. Subsequently, it is not surprising that these birds might share their sleeping quarters, perhaps an abandoned nest or a crevice in a rock face, with other wrens. In fact there is one record of 31 birds huddled together at a nest site in western Washington. Hey, no snoring and watch the elbows!

Wrens are insect eaters, which they capture on the ground or snatch from leaf surfaces or the bark of trees. Nothing is safe around these little critters: spiders, insects, ticks, mites, bees, wasps, ants, caterpillars, millipedes, butterflies… you get the picture. When they’re starving they might eat a berry or two. But if ain’t got a pulse, they really don’t want it.

So how can a bug-eater like the Pacific Wren survive a winter? Easy: they find the dormant insects and whatnot in their winter hiding places, such as under rock overhangs or within the deep furrows of tree bark. You’d be surprised what they can scavenge up!

And they don’t have to chase it!

In the spring the male builds a series of incomplete nests, all unlined,

called “cock nests.” He uses these prospective nests as an enticement for a lady friend. His perspective mate will then choose one of the not-quitefinished nests to complete herself.

She’ll line it with lichen and other soft material. And he’ll be singing his famous song.

And this is your best chance finding a Pacific Wren. Become familiar with the male’s song and then head for the woods, preferably somewhere dark and near water. They like hanging around the heavy brush near water seeps, etc. They’re bold birds and not easily bothered by your presence, but that is to your advantage. So put on your best camouflaged ninja-gear and head out!

Keep a sharp ear, a keen eye, and a stealthy approach. You might not even need your binoculars.

There you go. Now you’re an expert on the Pacific Wren. Now you just gotta find one! Happy birding!

Have a question to ask or a comment to share? You can write me at mturnlund@ gmail.com. I also have a website where I post pictures of birds that I’ve captured with my digital camera. You can find them at birdsidaho.blogspot.com.

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August 2015

Page 17

• Kathy’s Faith Walk

Kathy Osborne •

In Days Gone By

I have been looking at my 2015 Country Memories calendar. I always get two. One is to hang on the wall and use. The other is to save the images.

Then I place them like a wall hanging outside my work office for customers to enjoy. It is not uncommon to find people in my hallway, ”just looking” they say as they ponder the watercolor images of days gone by.

Days gone by… now that is a mouth full. The phrase means so many things to so many people and it is interesting to discover just what encompassed “the good old days” or “days gone by.”

My dad has written quite a few stories for me over the years and we have them archived. They are always short, always filled with humor and adventure. I believe my dad lived more before he was eight years old than the average high school senior these days.

During his good old days farming was done with horses. Tractors were still too expensive and with horses, well, you got extras. They were also fun to ride to school and they provided manure for the garden and the flowers.

Dad spent the first few years of his academic experience in a one room school house on Wrencoe Loop, where he was also born “down by the river.”

Like most old school houses, this one was also the center of the community, the place to go to vote, the place where the ladies clubs gathered and where holiday parties were held. When

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Bonner County finally convinced the rural communities to consolidate the schools (it took three voting efforts to wear them down) the “one room” became so quiet.

As the years went by, the Ladies Club grew older and passed away trying to leave the heritage of community behind, but it had already begun to vanish. Harvest dinners that had been the event of the year soon became merely an option as television became more popular, and as the teenagers started going to town on the weekends to find something more interesting to do. Tractors and trucks had replaced the horse which was now primarily a recreational creature.

Families became smaller, and no one was teaching anyone to dance, to stop by the neighbor’s garage for a bicycle repair, to embroider the next bridal gift of pillow cases, or to sip iced tea on the front porch in the cool of the evening.

What are the days gone by? They are composed of memories of a time when our lives were much slower and much less safe. We are safer now but we have no privacy. Our young people know more about sex than how to plant a garden. They can figure out how to operate a smart phone in a few minutes but finding a lifetime mate eludes them. They can get a job at the local burger joint but gaining wisdom, knowledge and a true vocation is just not on their radar. All of these

things, all of these life skills were part of growing up in the days gone by.

Was it perfect? Of course not. We had sickness and disease until the advent of antibiotics. Farm accidents were often fatal. Work days on the farm were more in the neighborhood of 12–15 hours a day than the cushy eight we have come to embrace. And our lifespans were a bit shorter. But what a life!

When I see people in my hallway looking at the images on the wall, they are fighting back tears. They are remembering their own lives, their own communities, grandmothers and grandfathers, bicycle riding buddies and the corner candy store. They are remembering that cool jump into the river after a hard day of putting up hay, and the pretty girl down the road just waiting to be asked to the dance Saturday Night.

What does all this, all these images from my calendar, the people in the hall, and all these memories have to do with my faith walk? Everything.

These people who look at the calendar images don’t say much until I ask them what they think of the collection. The answers are always the same. Along with the one room school house and the community dinners, the presence of God in daily life was so very important.

Honoring God on Sunday, sometimes twice, was the norm. Sunday dinner was a special time to talk family matters and compare notes on what the pastor said that morning. These older folks seem to feel that something has changed, and yet, has it really?

The barns will age. The farm implements will rust. And the paths to the past will grow over as fewer walk them. Still our hearts and minds will see them as they once were—vibrant, active, and useful. They are a tangible representation of all that once was a community centered around God.

220 Cedar St. Sandpoint 208.263.0846 Page 18

Kathy Osborne is the editor of the Co-Op Country Round-Up, and has been walking her faith in our local communities since birth.

August 2015

• The Hawk’s Nest

Ernie Hawks •

I Don’t Need to Know Right Now

I can see sure footing for five or six more steps but none beyond that so I stop and look down into the basin I had hiked into an hour ago. I need a break from the scree slope I am scrambling across.

The hanging valley has several small ponds and tarns.

The water in each one is so clear the bottoms seem to not

Commission Creek. Photo by Ernie Hawks

For several days some close friends and I have been hiking ridges and valleys, to the toe of a glacier, and photographed deep gorges. Six of us who love the mystery of the mountains and love sharing it with each other, celebrating challenges met and supporting each other in the process.

I am exhilarated and at peace as I take in these surroundings with these companions. I feel the beauty and serenity of a mountain wilderness and I feel the pain of families losing a loved one. How do we go forward with unknowns that can rip the fabric of our lives?

I know to live only in this moment, yet I often feel a need to plan for tomorrow or even six steps ahead. Or do I simply accept that when I need to I will be given the understanding necessary?

Once again nature is teaching me a lesson as I cross this scree slope. I don’t need to know six steps ahead, I only need the next one; the others will be shown to me as I need them.

Ernie Hawks is the author of “Every Day is a High Holy Day; Stories of an Adventuring Spirit” available on Amazon, Kindle or in your favorite bookstore.

be distorted until a pebble’s wave rings dance across the surface. They are connected by lazy, flowing braided streams meandering through a peat and grass meadow. At the lip the streams converge into a series of cascades and falls dropping several hundred feet into a deep drainage that is Kokanee Creek.

The whole vale, with a rainbow of wild flowers looking like a painter’s palette, is surrounded by a granite cirque of towers, spires and knobs creating the horizon to the west.

Below each stone monolith is an incline of large boulders broken from the rock faces just like the one I am on.

Through the pass ahead are peaks of the Valhalla Mountains several miles to the west. Glaciers reaching through the cols and notches shine bright white against a Need reliable, high-speed Internet blue afternoon sky. Turning around I see behind me, across service? Call for a free site survey the valley, Kokanee Glacier, forming a dome between two rock crests. today! Intermax serves many Farther to the east is the Purcell Range with remnants of areas of Bonner County from ice, ages old.

Dover to Hope as well as locations The scene reminds me of a friend who loved the mountains and found peace in their presence who died a throughout Kootenai County. couple weeks ago. He loved the challenges and beauty of the wilderness but life’s other challenges were more difficult 208.762.8065 in Coeur d’Alene for him. Finally, alcohol was his attempt at peace and his last challenge. I felt sad both for him and for his family, who • 208.265.3533 in Sandpoint loved and supported him.

As I wonder where my next steps will be I wish I could www.IntermaxNetworks.com understand the complexities of life. How is it that a talented man, cherished and cared for, could not feel that love and looked for an escape from his pain in the fog of inebriation?

August 2015 Page 19

Internet....

Everywhere

• Acres n’ Pains

Scott Clawson

Chicken Delights

Sponsored in part by her own internal clock and the rest of the way by her anticipation of fresh tweets, Greta’s eyelids popped open at precisely 21 minutes on the down-hill side of 4 in the morning.

Inside of a minute, the white Leghorn was waltzing the living room with no particular agenda. It was too early for one anyway, tweets first. She circled the coffee table three times for no apparent reason, not even thinking that she sometimes crossed the road in front of her house for the same good cause.

She paused in her tracks long enough to look out the picture window at a lightening skyline and fell in love all over again, like she had the morning before, with that amazing palette of blue. Then she heard what she’d gotten up for in the first place, that ageless, early morning, inebriant birdsong at the hint of first light, coming through an open window somewhere.

An all-too-familiar gray and white face appeared outside the big glass pane so she gave it a wave. “Meow”, Little Man lightly replied, barely audible through the glass. She waved again. “Meow” again. Wave. “Meow”, wave. “Meow”, wave. This went on until it was light enough to develop an agenda.

In the meantime, her nose picked up on the notion that something was missing. An aroma that was present every morning, almost without fail, with its stimulating earthy goodness, almost on par with a good pile of steaming compost, she thought. But where was that odor and for that matter, where in blue blazes was her housemother? She apparently hadn’t come home last night, left a window wide open when she took off for Godknows-where, and to top it all off, missed one heck of a pie-pan rattling thunderstorm at dinner time which promptly got cancelled due to an outbreak of simple panic and irritable bowel syndrome.

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Greta had lost most of her memory during a close encounter with a free-range lightning bolt in that storm and now even a little retention was getting hard to come by. She waltzed some more and ignored the cat’s incessant one-sided conversation by waving indiscriminately at anything and everything.

Her mind, only running on three cylinders for lack of aromatic stimulation, wasn’t the least bit curious as to why old “Fuzzbutt,” obviously superior in his current demeanor, hadn’t yet noticed the open, screenless window. “Don’t help those who won’t help themselves” was one of her favorite mantras and she employed it here, there, and everywhere, without deference.

Still in waltz mode, she entered the kitchen to see both of her sisters perched on the counter, legs crossed ladylike and, like her, wondering what in blazes it was they weren’t yet smelling. They shared a few low whispered digs over their sister’s dance routine while they preened themselves nervously, still shaken by the previous evening’s electrical storm.

Greta perched herself on the counter in front of the coffee maker, settled back to better hear any criticism when the ample rear end she was so proud of inadvertently turned on ol’ Mr. Coffee. Within a few seconds, leftover condensation suddenly began spewing steam and sinister noises, startling the poor girl into a flailing yet stimulating set of calisthenics, which eventually tripped the switch to the garbage disposal where a silver ‘baby spoon’ got sucked up, causing quite a stir in the two other young ladies preening daintily on the edge of their little world which happened to be the sink.

Nellie Bly ended up on the floor, shaken but not too well stirred, while Greta and Nefertiti fought for possession over the spray nozzle and

the water handles until Nef got a big face full, let out a vehement squawk and rolled back on the stove top, where her oversized thighs turned on the largest burner available just as she settled on it to dry her face and glare at her evil twin. In short order, an aroma none of them had ever before experienced enveloped her like a cloud, providing a surreal and angelic glow. When the heat penetrated her thick petticoat however, flight became inevitable and so did spontaneous combustion. Her sisters were impressed by the fact that they’d never once seen her go nearly that far without stopping for a bite to eat somewhere along the way. Well, that and for a distance of at least fifteen feet, she appeared to be jet propelled.

The noise and smoke were bad enough, but the sparks were simply too much of a reminder of the previous evening so they all made for the relative comfort of the living room.

Nefertiti led the way and sat down on the carpet, grinding her smoldering bottom in to produce an odiferous stain no one would ever come close to accurately explaining later.

Greta, being awake the longest, was also the most alert. Nellie was right behind her, not only attentively but also literally and she smelled like a small pillow fire to boot, so Greta climbed onto the arm of an easy chair to review the morning thus far.

It had started out so perfect she thought, but now just look! She couldn’t hear the birds anymore and the damn cat even disappeared. Just as boredom was about to get a grip over suspense and stress, she noticed an old New Yorker issue lying face up between her butt and the chair’s arm. On the cover, a Central Park scene depicted spring and unshackled freedom from winter’s grasp. Being a country girl at heart, she decided she could ‘give a crap’ about city life, its noises and people, doing so twice, almost blotting out entirely the Upper East Side of Manhattan in one swell poop.

Content with that, she plucked a crumpled half-gone cigarette out of an overstuffed ashtray balanced nearby.

August 2015

When the stale burnt aroma entered her tender young nostrils, she thought again of her housemother, the only truant element in this crazy morning other than breakfast. She shook her head to clear it. It didn’t take much.

In an effort to shut out the noise and commotion, she did what she’d seen her housemother do in similar circumstances; she reached out and pecked the space bar of an open laptop snoozing innocently on the edge of an end table.

The stunning coincidence between whom she was thinking of and the sudden appearance of her housemother’s smiling image on screen was just enough to blow poor Greta’s young, inexperienced, pea-sized mind.

Flustered, she flew into the image out of a mixed bag of not only pure love and admiration, but also discontent over all the damned racket and smoke coming from the kitchen, unpleasant odors coming from her smoldering sister, the lack of anything to eat, and just now an all-new sound was reverberating from the hallway ceiling, “BWEEEEEEEEEEEE…”, trying its best to be heard over the garbage disposal still doing its hearty best to digest a spoon.

Bouncing off the screen, she did the most authentic “Funky Chicken” rendition ever performed on a keyboard, hitting several key functions in the process.

English not being her first language or even her second, she had no way of

grasping the importance and/or wry humor of the large, flagged warning that now demanded to know, “DO YOU REALLY WANT TO DELETE ALL FILES?” As her luck would have it, a small but tasty looking crumb fell out of her petticoat and landed on the ‘Enter’ key, so she nailed it like it was a veritable fly on a toilet seat.

By this time, the atmosphere was nearly untenable even for these jaded youths, so the three of them checked out through the same window they’d all used twenty minutes earlier, returning to their humble little roosts without any breakfast.

The hapless cat saw the chickens exiting but, being almost deaf, didn’t mind the racket and paid little if any attention to whatever else was going on, just happy to finally be inside after a very, very long night out. ‘Little Man’ headed straight for his favorite perch, that same arm of the easy chair, nudging the fouled magazine to the floor, face down.

This is where he was soon discovered, accused, tried and unfairly convicted of homeland terrorism by the housemother upon her rather manic (in the cat’s opinion) return home from God-knows-where, tardy as usual.

301 N. First, Sandpoint • 263.3622 210 Sherman, CDA • 765.4349

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August 2015

Page 21

Season’s Open

at the Bonner County Fair!

Aug. 11-15 • Sandpoint

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• Aug. 12-15 Carnival • Aug 14 Challenge of Champions Tour Bull Riding, 7:30 pm, followed

by Devon Wade dance • Aug. 15 Market Animal Livestock Sale, 9 am • Aug. 15 Demolition Derby at 7 pm PLUS: Open class and 4-H exhibits, wildlife exhibit, jugglers, clowns, live music, magic shows, antique tractor display, The Dating Game and more, more, more!

Don’t miss the 2015 PRCA RODEO 7 pm Aug 7 & 8

Bonner County Fairgrounds 4203 N. Boyer Rd. Sandpoint • 208.263.8414

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August 2015

CHALLENGE OF CHAMPIONS VS. TOUR BULL RIDING

Friday, August 14 • 7:30 pm Gates open at 6:30 - Al Parsons, announcer

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